The course had been changed overnight. It was now northwest by west. The needle vibrated with the throbbing of the engines, but each time it settled back to the first point.
Stirling rose and dressed without haste, clapped his cap on his head, and strode through the doorway to the damp deck. Here he leaned over the starboard rail and glanced downward at the swift-running foam which seethed alongside the ship's planks, then raised his eyes and swept the horizon. It was pale to the eastward with the first rosy flush of dawn.
For a moment he remained in one position, then turned and stared aft with his eyes wide and intent. The gloom which shrouded the poop of the ship was lightened by the upward glow of an open companion, and a figure stood to the extreme port side of the quarter-deck. This figure was shrouded and muffled but the red reflection from the side light brought out some details.
Stirling gripped the rail and continued staring. It was Marr, no doubt, who had taken the position so near the wheelsman. There was that to the set of the head, however, which caused Stirling concern. Marr generally held his chin high. This head, as seen over the drab canvas, was dropped and thoughtful.
The wheelsman turned and touched his cap. Stirling heard part of a question, which concerned the course, and it was not answered. The figure started, half leaned away, then swung about and disappeared in the gloom of the smudge astern where the funnel smoke drifted and swirled.
The shaftlike light from the open cabin companion grew pale, then was blotted out by a descending figure. A slide closed with a loud slam, and the ship plunged on, leaving Stirling no wiser for his impressions. He turned with a half grumble and hurried forward.
Cushner was emerging from the deck house, having stolen a trip inside to the cook's galley, where coffee was always steaming.
"Good morning!" he exclaimed, recognizing Stirling's form on the deck. "Sun's clear and wind's abeam—almost. Light wind and a flowing sea. Good morning, I said!"
"Who changed the course?" asked Stirling, point-blank. "We're not headed right. We can't make Dutch Pass or anywhere near it on this tack. What does Marr mean?"
Cushner scratched his head, raised his hand, and pointed astern. "Whitehouse gave me the new course when the watches were changed," he said. "That's all I know. It's a long way from where we expected we were going, Stirling."